


A Variety of Gifts

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [16]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 11:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16117748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Happy Creation Day, Ratchet!





	A Variety of Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> entangledwood said: Do Cybertronians have an equivalent of a birthday? And if yes, could we get a glimpse at younger!Ratchet and older!twins' birthdays?

               “What are you doing?”

                Ratchet looked up from his patient record and right into a scorching glare.  

                “Uh, I’m… working?” Ratchet ventured, a little bit intimidated by Sunstreaker’s dark expression. The frontliner’s stares were always intense, but it was rare that they were angry or annoyed when directed at Rachet.

                “It’s two hours past the end of your shift. We’ve been looking all over for you,” Sunstreaker stated.

                “Well… I’ve been here. I’m a little behind on these…” Ratchet waved at his stack of files. He was nearly done at least. Then Sunstreaker’s words and Sideswipe’s absence registered. “Wait… why have you been looking for me? Are you both ok?”

                “It’s your Creation Day. Sideswipe’s spent most of the morning setting up in your room.”

                “My…” Ratchet checked the date and realized that Sunstreaker was right. He just turned twenty-eight centuries old today. Apparently time flew when you were dodging blaster fire on a battlefield. “How did you know that?”

                “Sideswipe hacked your personnel file,” Sunstreaker replied, matter-of-factly.

                “He did _what_?! That’s personal information!” Ratchet protested, pushing himself to his feet in outrage.

                Sunstreaker gave him a condescending look. “Really? I never would have thought that… it being called a ‘personnel’ file and all.”

                It was Ratchet’s turn to glare. Until something else registered.

                “Sideswipe’s been in my quarters?!”

                At Sunstreaker’s nod, Ratchet threw up his hands in frustration. “Let me guess… he hacked my door too?”

                “No. I did.”

                Ratchet rolled his optics. “And what should I expect when I enter my quarters, exactly?”

                “You’ll just have to find out. We’re due for patrol in a few minutes. Otherwise we would have celebrated with you. Be sure to thank Sides. He worked really hard on your gifts.”

                “…gifts?” Ratchet echoed. “You got me gifts? Why would you do that?”

                Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side, slowly beginning to back up. “Because it’s your Creation Day. And you deserve something nice.”

                Ducking his head, Sunstreaker whirled around and strode out of Medical, not looking back.

                Ratchet stared after him for several long moments before looking down at his desk. He pursed his lips and then grabbed his completed stack of files. The others he left; he could come in a little bit early to his next shift to finish them.

                After shelving the datapads, he left Medical, making his way to his quarters. Once there, he paused in front of his door, examining it. It looked safe… there were no odd smells or markings anywhere at least.

                To be fair, despite Sideswipe’s reputation as a prankster, Ratchet had largely been left alone on that front. Every now and then he picked up a stylus and it fell apart in his hands or his tools had been moved two inches to the right while he was in surgery. All harmless, especially in comparison to some of the stories he’d heard.

                Holding a vent, he cautiously opened his door and peeked inside. His optics widened in surprise and he opened the door the rest of the way, moving forward in awe.

                Tiny white twinkling lights had been strewn up, circling his quarters at the level of the ceiling. They put off a soft glow, softening his room’s spartan edges. In the very center of the room was the small round table he normally used for tinkering with malfunctioning medical equipment. It had been cleared off and now it was decorated with a decanter of softly glowing blue liquid (presumably high grade), several small cups, and three plates of what looked like treats. One held a pile of rust sticks, the sight of which immediately had Ratchet’s tank rumbling.

                Upon closer inspection, he realized the other two plates contained hand-made energon gels and iron-dusted manganese balls. They smelled delicious and when Ratchet wonderingly poked at one of the gels he found it still a little warm.

                Were these the gifts Sunstreaker had been talking about? Had Sideswipe set this up for all three of them to enjoy? Because this was far too much for Ratchet to consume alone.

                Then Ratchet caught sight of his berth. The covers had been straightened, better showing off the items that had been left there. He walked over slowly, optics first catching on the small portrait of himself. It was amazingly lifelike, although there was no way he looked that good. The whites of his paintjob were bright, his red piping sharp and clean, and his optics shone as he laughed at something off to the side of the frame.

                Ratchet carefully picked the canvas up and turned it over, his vents catching when he saw the tiny signature glyph in the corner. Sunstreaker painted? And he had created this beautiful thing for Ratchet?

                Humbled, he gently placed it back down and reached for the next object. A data pad, an older, clunkier model, but it flicked on without any hesitation. Ratchet perused the contents, his spark beating faster with each entry.

                This was… this was every single book in Scrapper’s ‘Metal Mysteries’ series. And not only that, but there was the unfinished manuscript of his last book included as well, one which Ratchet had never managed to find on his own.

                He had asked Sideswipe for this as a challenge a long time ago, one which Sideswipe had apparently accepted. Ratchet had never expected he would actually produce even _one_ book much less all of them. It must have taken months to track all of the titles down.

                Maybe it had taken Sunstreaker months to make that painting. The twins had spent time, effort, and credits on these presents. Ratchet didn’t deserve any of them, not even the rust sticks, no matter what Sunstreaker had said.

                He would have to thank both of them, not just Sideswipe.  

                Then he spotted the last present sitting on his berth. Nasal ridge wrinkling, he reached out and using just two fingers, gingerly picked up a garishly yellow and orange dildo. It was thick and long and he spied a switch and toggle on the end that suggested it was more than just a fake spike.

                A hand written note had been lying beneath it, and Ratchet squinted at the scrawled glyphs.

                _If you ever get bored using this, you know where the real things live! ~ Sideswipe :)_

                Ratchet wondered if he could get away with pretending he had never found the interfacing toy.  

 

~End


End file.
